


i could never forget

by cattlaydee



Series: i could never forget [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Challenge Response, Ex Sex, Hamilton Flash Gift Exchange 2k17, M/M, Past Infidelity, Reconciliation, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 05:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11685165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattlaydee/pseuds/cattlaydee
Summary: Please don’t hurt me like this, George had asked so many months before. Right after their anniversary. Right after they’d told each other how much they loved the other. Right before Alex went and found someone else.





	i could never forget

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamlittleyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/gifts).



_“Please don’t hurt me like this.”_

George squeezed his eyes as he recollected his words, over a year gone. His fingers pressed into the finished oak of his desk’s edge, clenching in an effort to offset the sense memory of such a humiliation.

When he dared to open his eyes again, he let himself read the email he’d been putting off once more.

“I know it’s been a bit,” Alex had written. “And I know things ended...not great. But I just. I’ve been thinking about you. And I’d like to get a beer. If you’re okay with it.”

George had fucking begged. God, they’d sat in the car and George... _George_ …had tried to convince this sniveling PR asshole, 20 years his junior, to give him another chance. George, who had somehow fallen into a deputy CTO position at one of the largest tech companies on the East Coast. George, who now sat at the helm and on the board of said company. George who was now, essentially, a startup God.

Fuck Alexander Hamilton. He’d given him a chance. He’d seen him as one of the kids coming out of his frat, tried to give him an _opportunity_. He’d heard from his brothers that Alex had _potential_.

He’d not meant to like Alexander. Hell, he’d not intended to _fall_ for Alexander but hell is what had happened, and Alexander had thrown it all away for some young woman George had only heard of in the passing of office gossip.

He slammed his laptop shut. Meet with _him_. At the restaurant where they’d had their first date. Where Alex had told him he’d loved him, outside in the heat of a burgeoning summer.

But.

This wasn’t the first time Alex had reached out to him. In fact, Alex had reached out several times. And George, wrapped up in a brief fling with an old girlfriend, had ignored him. George, for the past 8 and a half months, in _fact_ , had been living his best _life_.

So yes. Fuck Alexander Hamilton. He wasn’t even _thinking_ about Alex anymore. He honestly, 100%, did not give a shit, anymore, what Alexander Hamilton was doing with his free time.

Of course, he’d heard things. Alex had quit shortly after their breakup, seeming to want a clean break between the two of them. George had heard his name, heard about where he’d gone and speculative chit chat on what _exactly_ had caused Alex to leave, but had made the effort to ignore it. And since they’d kept their relationship quiet for the year or so they’d been together, no one really asked George about him.

God, the thought of it alone made him want to rage, made George want to pick the laptop up and smash it against the wall and figure out a way in this world to never, ever speak to that man again.

Alex’s email had appeared in a way that George hadn’t even realized it was _his_ Alex. He’d not looked at it for two days, and then he’d ignored it, once he’d horrifyingly identified it, for another two.

The way it had been written seemed so nonchalant. Insincere. A casual smile as you rifled through a bag or spoke to a friend. A simple glance out of the corner of your eye to acknowledge their presence only to return to the subject at hand. There but not there. Just beyond the orbit of the essential.

And George wanted to say no. Actually, he’d wanted to say a whole many more words than just no.

But then he’d thought--- _Why say no?_ He knows you love that place. And even if George hadn’t, Alex had added the caveat that it could be his choice where they went.

 _If you tell him no,_ a little voice whispered, _he’ll know you’re still upset._

And he wasn’t. George wasn’t upset. It’d been over a year. He’d not ever seen Alexander. So what was the harm? Was George still lovestrung after so long that he couldn’t even have a drink? 16 months and he was still that...bitter?

Of course not, he told himself. No big deal. It would be fine.

He sighed and reopened the laptop and it buzzed to life. He logged in and the invite was still open, waiting to be either answered or moved to the trash bin. George scowled, and accepted it, before slamming the laptop shut once more.

Fuck Alexander Hamilton, indeed.

* * *

They agreed to meet at the place they’d had their first date. The date hadn’t even been the first time they’d gone to the restaurant. No, that had been reserved for some kind of happy hour after a late night at the office---George, and Alex, a few others. He couldn’t quite be sure, but George assumed it had been after the second pitcher of margaritas when he’d felt Alexander toeing at his ankle, prompting him to look up at the younger man in surprise. The look Alex had given him was dark and alluring.

George had offered to walk with him to his apartment nearby---for safety, of course---and had ended up staying the night but left early in the morning. They had started this _thing_ \---casual, no strings attached, easy---until Alex had begun to stay a little longer each time. Until Alex left a toothbrush at George’s condo. Until he’d started keeping a bottle of George’s favorite bourbon in his liquor cabinet.

So now, after everything, George decided to show up a little late. It was partly by accident, although George had almost made a lame excuse to get out of it a few times. He put off leaving his place and getting a cab, examining himself once more in the floor length mirror.

Dark wash jeans. Nice, black leather shoes. A gunmetal colored cashmere sweater that clung to him in ways that had made the lady at the counter of the boutique he had visited earlier that afternoon look over at him more than once as he had examined himself in the multipaned mirror.

A feeling of discomfort knotted in his chest. What did he care? he asked himself, fixing the clasp of his favorite watch. This was going to be a nothing dinner. They’d go, he’d let Alex bitch and moan about...whatever he felt like he had to get off his chest to make everything seem like it was _fine_ between them, and he would come home early and fall into bed. Uneventful. Merely something to endure.

It took him 20 minutes to get to the place and when he walked up to the hostess stand, his eyes traveled beyond the young lady checking her seating chart to scan the room. There, on his phone, a soft frown on his face, was Alexander.

Anemic looking as always, he thought wryly. Alex had been gifted with youthful metabolism which, when aided by the occasional workout or week long diet, would keep his figure in check. His lips were twisted and his fingers flew across the glass until he hit a button and set it down, shaking out his shoulders. Alexander looked right, then left, surveying the dining room, and then found George watching him.

His face opened up. The twist of his lips turned into a soft smile and he sat up straighter, waving a hand over his head. George lifted his head in acknowledgment, and leaned towards the young lady, gesturing to the table as she waved him ahead.

Alex’s hair was slicked back into a tight pony tail. He was dressed in a nice, white button down devoid of wrinkles---a conscious decision to be sure, given what he knew about Alex. The shirt was untucked but he wore what looked like a nice pair of darker colored pants.

He’d made an effort. He’d wanted to look nice for this. George felt his neck warm at the thought.

Uneventful, he told himself. A nothing dinner.

They made small talk. The waitress brought water. Shyly, Alex suggested margaritas, and George nodded, and they looked over the menus in relative silence, awkwardly shifting and avoiding eye contact.

Well. George did. Alex seemed to be watching him constantly, asking question after question, wanting everything to be okay. He asked how the business was doing, he asked how their coworkers were, even trying to make lame attempts to revive old inside jokes about the daily comings and goings in the office.

The margaritas came and they placed their order. George took a deep drink from his and licked his lips before settling his hands in his lap and leaning back to finally look Alex in his face. “Alex, what are we doing here?”

Alex flushed. He started to play with the straw paper, balling it up and fiddling with it, looking down at the glossy tabletop. “I...I wanted to see what you’d been up to. How you were doing.”

“I’m fine. Good.” George shrugged. “I assumed you would have been following how we were doing.”

“I didn’t mean how the company was doing,” Alex replied. “I want to know how _you’re_ doing.”

“Well. I’m doing well.” George picked up his napkin, folding it and placing it in his lap. “I’d rather not get into the specifics of my personal life.” His gaze flickered up. “Which, speaking of... how is...what was her name? Maria?”

The flush on Alex’s face darkened. “Uh,” Alex said, tone strangled. “Maria is...Maria _was_ ….Maria moved to be closer to her family.”

“Oh,” George said. “So that’s why you wanted to have dinner.”

“No!” Alex insisted, suddenly not reticent. “No, that’s not it. You have to know that’s not it. I’ve tried to talk to you before this. I’ve tried…” He trailed off. “George, I’ve missed talking to you.”

“Alex…”

“No, please. Let me...let me say something.” Alex threw the paper down, fidgeting in his seat. He looked up at George, intensive and with a purpose. “You know…” He waved his hand. “You know all my shit. About my family and stuff. And I just, George, the way I felt about you…” He shook his head. “I freaked out. I got _scared_. I was young and stupid...hell, I still _am_ young and stupid, but I just...I freaked out.” He reached out and grabbed for George’s hand.

George didn’t pull away.

“You made me feel safe,” Alex admitted quietly. “Safe hasn’t really been a reliable option for me.” He let out an empty chuckle. “And I was scared and I was shitty about it instead of talking with you and I’m sorry.

“I’m not saying that I want...anything,” he said with a sigh, gesturing between them with his free hand. “I’m not gonna put that on you right now. But I just…” And now Alex’s tone was petulant, pleading. “Can we be friends? Can we talk without you ignoring me?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” George lied.

“George.”

George looked back up at him, and after a second or two of silence, nodded. Alex withdrew his hand and leaned back looking relieved, and the waiter descended with plates of warm food, and their discussion returned to easy small talk, peppered with caustic quips and references to old jokes.

They ordered another pitcher of margaritas. Then a few beers. They closed down the restaurant, in fact.

And then Alex asked him if he could walk him back to his building and George, against every instinct, agreed.

 

* * *

Alex had a new couch.

George stared at it as Alex tossed his keys in a tray by the door and walked to his kitchen, asking if George wanted a drink or some food. George didn’t answer, but made his way to the couch. It was nice---much nicer than the Goodwill find Alex had owned before, the one that sagged in the middle from years of use. This was black leather, no scratches; he helped himself to a seat and ran his hand appreciatively over the cushion. Firm, but comfortable---and no doubt a little pricey.

Maybe George wasn’t the only reason Alex had jumped jobs. He’d have to ask him.

Alex reappeared then with two glasses full with what looked to be an Old Fashioned. George wasn’t super keen on drinking anymore, for the buzz from the restaurant was still holding strong, his cloudy thoughts something he would surely blame this all on later. But he took it, to be polite, and took a small sip and nodded.

“Is that….?” he started to ask and Alex nodded, sliding in next to him.

“Your Four Roses? Yeah. I still had some left after…” Alex trailed off, and set his own drink on the table under a coaster. He sat back, keeping a distance between them, obviously making a conscious effort not to crowd George, but he had a bright, excited smile on his face that George couldn’t help but feel warmed by.

 _Be careful_ , he thought to himself. This was how Alex was. Charming, and funny, and so smart. George had to remember that night in the car. _Please don’t hurt me like this,_ and he had to be smart himself.

“Thank you again, for meeting with me,” Alex said softly, as if became obvious George wasn’t going to say anything. “I’ve felt terrible about how everything went down, and I’ve missed you so much. Thank you for giving me a chance to say I’m sorry.”

“Of course,” George heard himself say, and he set the glass down on the table as well, mostly untouched. “We’re both adults here. Everyone deserves a chance to make amends.”

Alex’s hand found its way to George’s thigh, and he looked up at him, leaning in, and suddenly with those words, he didn’t seem as concerned with keeping space as he was a few minutes ago.

“I’m all about…” Alex took a breath, licking his lips. “Making amends.”

George’s drink addled mind wasn’t sure about how fast it was, but Alex was on his knees pretty quickly, hands unbuckling George’s slacks with impressive dexterity. George made a noise as Alex stroked him through his boxer briefs, and he tilted his head back to catch his breath.

“Are you okay, George? I don’t want to…”

And against his own better judgement,  he answered. “No, please. Don’t stop...I...I want to.”

They stumbled to Alex’s room shortly after, George divesting himself of his jeans as Alex stripped off his own shirt and began working at his pants. Once they crossed the threshold of his room, Alex hit his knees almost immediately, peeling off George’s underwear as he dropped to the ground.

It was a sloppy blow job, but he knew Alex’s main motivation was not necessarily to finish him off but to get him ready. He let himself grab at the crown of Alex’s head, eliciting a soft moan from the man on his knees that sent a shiver up George’s spine.

When he was fully hard, Alex pulled back with a smack, caressing him with a appreciative sound before hauling himself to his feet. He grabbed onto the hem of George’s undershirt and peeled it up, and George raised his arms to go along with it. Alex walked to the bed, stopping at the nightstand to fetch some lube before taking his pants off and dropping onto the mattress.

George watched. Watched as Alex worked himself open with one hand while touching himself with the other. Watched as Alex’s mouth opened just a little, watched as his eyes closed and his head arched back into the pillow, watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he sighed in pleasure.

Alex opened his eyes, hand still on his cock. “Are you gonna stand there and watch, or are you gonna join me?”

George wondered what it would be like. They’d both had other partners since the last time they’d been together. And the last time they’d been together, it had been tender and sweet and slow. And that was not how he planned this night going.

He climbed onto the bed and crawled to him on all fours, settling in between Alex’s spread legs, and Alex surged forward, grabbing George’s face with dirty hands and kissing him hard, pulling him closer.

George wasn’t sure how they got from point A to B but soon, Alex’s face was pressed into the bed sideways and Alex was laughing---fucking _cackling_ \---spewing spittle and hot air across the sheet so that it darkened the already navy color but as George pressed deeper, the laugh transitioned into a moan, and soon all that was left were wet teeth marks on the pillow underneath him.

“Fucking christ, I forgot…” Alex panted, his tongue almost hanging out of his mouth. Like a dog, George thought angrily, bitterly. Like a desperate bitch in heat. “Fuck, I forgot how…” Alex laughed. “How gifted you are with that.”

George palmed the small of Alex’s back, then tightened his grip so that the tips of his fingers left white imprints on his skin.  Alex was twisted up like a pretzel for leverage, one knee in the mattress and one up near the pillows at the head of the bed. George nudged him for a better angle and dug his fingers tighter while he started to pick up his pace. Alex responded in kind with little gasps that grew longer and longer and longer until George, merciful as he was, wrapped his hand around Alex’s cock and stroked it gently, thrumming his fingers in a rhythm that made Alex gasp once more in the middle of a breath and he came, brilliant and white and clear across dark sheets, before he settled into the mess with a groan.

But George wasn’t done. No. George continued to ride him, and Alex acquiesced with little grunts and gasps of something that George thought was pleasure. Probably. Knowing Alex. He was, after all, the one who arranged this...meeting. Finally, Alex reached behind him and stroked George’s taint, the sensation enough to draw a shout from his lips, and he filled Alex, slowing in his strokes but not letting up on his depth. He wanted Alex to feel this. Wanted Alex to know what he’d opened himself up to.

Wanted Alex to know that he---George---was still here.

He collapsed on top of Alex, chest to back, shakily gasping for air. He felt Alex’s hand squirm its way back to grab onto his own, and the feeling of Alex’s fingers trying to intermingle with his own made him frown. He slid away suddenly, pulling himself from where they were paired with a wet pop. George fell back against the pillow and immediately turned towards the wall, gathering the pillow under his arm and staring at a spot near the door jamb that he thought may have been created when someone smashed a bug.

“George?” Alex whispered, uncertain and cautious. George felt the bed creak under them as Alex tried to move closer, could feel where Alex’s hand settled on the sheet just next to the small of his back.

 _Please don’t hurt me like this,_ George had asked so many months before. Right after their anniversary. Right after they’d told each other how much they loved the other. Right _before_ Alex went and found someone else.

I was scared, Alex had tried to rationalize earlier. I loved you too much, I didn’t know what to do, I was scared.

George felt small hands at the crest of his hips and, in response, shifted towards the edge of the king sized bed.

Please don’t hurt me like this, he wanted to think he heard Alex whisper. George buried his face in his pillow and closed his eyes. In a few minutes, he heard Alex sigh deeply and felt the bed move again as Alex turned away from him, settling to fall asleep himself.

Part of George wanted to flip over. Wanted to wrap his arms around Alex’s small frame and pull him close and nuzzle into his neck. He’s _here_ , he thought to himself. _I’m here_. His fingers itched.

But _no_ , George’s own mind answered, because he remembered the car, and his plea, and the other person, and George curled further inward, closer to the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes again.

Not. Yet.


End file.
